"I trust you", San tells me, and I freeze. Does that mean that he'd hook up with me if I'd want it too?
Do I want it? Hell, yeah.
But... I'm scared.
Why?
I'm not the virgin here - San is.
So why am I the one who's frozen, unable to form a full se...
Suddenly, I feel like an awkward middle schooler in the middle of puberty who's just got his first crush – not like a somewhat grown-up student who knows that said crush is more than a crush and even likes him back.
The last couple of days left San and me with barely enough time to spend together – and for a moment I almost forget those few times where we already went beyond just cuddling and kissing.
Still red in the face, San clears his throat. "I want to practice a bit more – but after that, sure? But practice... I just really need to do it because... I've told you my grandparents will be there tomorrow, right?"
Right, he did.
I nod.
"Even if we're not gonna win – I just wanna make them proud... Oh, but you know what?" San gasps, delighted: "I can introduce you to them after our performance!"
"To your grandparents?" I cower.
How does San want to introduce me anyway? As the guy he kisses and cuddles and occasionally hooks up with?
"Don't worry, they're nice people." San laughs when he sees my face. "They really are."
"Ha." I try to laugh and sound relaxed. "Sure. Okay."
"Great." San beams at me. "But now, let's eat dinner. What should we order?"
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I've forgotten everything.
No matter how much I try to recall the last Ateez dance practices and the two rehearsals we did on stage, I can't remember a thing. My mind draws a blank.
Were we dancing in sync? Did I manage some of the more difficult moves with enough accuracy, and did I get all the right angles? What were some of the more difficult moves anyway?
"Wooyoung. Are you okay?"
I blink, only to see Yeosang's face right in front of me, looking concerned. "Wooyoung", he repeats and puts a hand on my shoulder. "It's just an audition. Don't be nervous."
His hand is trembling a bit.
I swallow and look behind him. There are people walking past the door to our backstage room; in a second they'll take their seats on the table that's placed directly in front of the stage. Five jury members - five people in expensive suits and dresses. The dress shoes of the bold man, who was the last to walk past our door have probably cost twice as much as my whole outfit – dress pants, fancy black shirt, black shoes, and some kind of hat that we're not supposed to put on before our last song, Hala Hala.
Yeosang's wearing black too. We all do; Seonghwa insisted on it. And although he didn't directly voice it, I know he must still be worried because of San's pink hair that doesn't match the kind of adventure-anonymity-mystery vibe that Seonghwa and Hongjoong want us to pull off. They both texted me a few days ago to ask if I knew whether San had any plans on dying his hair in another – more neutral – color. And they both insisted that I shouldn't bother asking San himself about it.
